Monday, February 29, 2016

Slumped on the floor of the New York City
subway, I watched my fiancée take her final 3 breaths.

In that moment, everything changed.

The Krane Hensley I’d become because of Zoë
vanished.

My life instantly shattered to pieces.

Now, I live on a mission to survive each day and
it’s become my greatest struggle.

I take my vengeance out in the cage, fighting
anyone and everyone that will stand up to me. It gives me fleeting relief, but
soon the pain crashes back down around me. So I’ve turned to Ivy, my salvation
from the agony that is my life.

The problem? Ivy is Zoë’s sister.

Can Ivy and I move past the heartache that
connects us to find a future together?

“To
Krane and Zoë,” Logan says holding his beer high in the air. The room echoes in
cheers and I raise my drink. He hops off the stage, letting the band get back
to playing as Zoë breathes softly on my neck. The small gesture from her makes
me horny as fuck. “I want you,” she whispers, immediately filling my mind with
images of fucking her.

Looking
into her gorgeous eyes, I want her too. “I know,” I respond, teasing her, and
it makes her shake her head at me.

“You
know, if you want to survive this engagement, you better start taking care of
me.”

She’s
joking, but the insinuation that I don’t take care of her sets me off. She is
my world and the only woman that I’ve ever loved. Swooping her tiny ass off of
the ground, I toss her over my shoulder to “take care” of her, regardless if
we’re in a New York City bar or not. She screams, “Put me down, baby,” and hits
my back. No one seems to notice us, as the crowd is engrossed in the band that
I’m sure Logan spent a ton of money on to play for us tonight – his parents are
loaded and he definitely takes advantage.

“Oh,
I’ll put you down in just a minute.” I slap her ass, kicking open the bathroom
door. The single stall is open and there is just one guy in here. All I have to
do is give him that look, that one that says get the fuck out of here or I’ll rip your head off and he scatters.

I
set Zoë down and she wobbles a little, running her fingers through her fucking
hair, knowing what that does to me. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?”
she asks, resting her hands back on one of the sinks.

“You
know why.”

She
smiles and gestures me to her with one finger. We are both drunk – the
connection we share is like nothing else, combine it with liquor and we are
combustible. Looking into her eyes makes everything in my world complete.
Knotting my fingers into the back of her hair, I press my lips to hers; she
tastes like Patrónand Zoë, the perfect fucking combination.

She
moans, wrapping her legs around me and runs her hands up my back, sending a
shiver right to my cock. Dropping my hands, I grip her thighs and carry her to
the door. Knowing that there’s no lock on it, I’ll have to fuck her right here
to keep it shut. If it was anyone else but Zoë, I wouldn’t give two shits if
they saw us fuck.

Her
tongue caresses mine, never letting up. My cock is so hard that it hurts.
Pushing myself against her, I groan, needing to be inside her. “Let me down,”
she asks, needing it just as much as I do.

“Keep
your back against the door,” I tell her, pulling her tank top down and exposing
her hard pink nipples. My mouth moves to them and I suck hard, flicking my
tongue back and forth on one of my favorite parts of her body. She slides her
jeans down her legs and then fumbles with mine. The tip of my dick is numb from
straining against the rough fabric, throbbing for her.

Finally
she sets my cock free and I let out a deep puff of air, looking down at her
hand as she strokes my shaft. The sensation is one of the things I live for.
Reaching down, I grab her wrist, along with her other one, pulling her arms
above her head. She nudges her hips forward with her legs spread apart. I watch
her begging me in her soft sexy voice, “Please fuck me.” Still holding both of
her hands with one of mine, I grip my cock with the other and nudge myself against
her.

Fuck, she’s wet.

Rubbing
myself on her clit, she moans and rocks her hips even more. I love to play with
her…to tease her. Especially when she’s this turned on.

“Take
back what you said.”

“What
do you mean?” she asks, breathless and confused.

“About
me needing to start taking care of
you.”

“I
take it back. You know I was joking, baby.”

With
a triumphant smirk on my face, I let go of her hands and lift her up again,
knowing that I am too tall to fuck her while standing. She attaches to me and
we both look down at my swollen dick as I gently nuzzle my way deep inside of
her. Then locking eyes with her, everything in this moment freezes. She’s
panting as I begin to stroke myself inside of her and this makes me pick up my
pace. The noise of her ass hitting the door echoes throughout the room.

Christ, her pussy is my heaven.

The
door nudges a little and I press her into it, digging myself a little further
into her cunt. “Occupied,” I growl.

“Sorry,”
the person on the other side says. Zoë hangs on to my neck and I stroke myself
inside of her, feeling her warmth and tightness. Loving what her body does to
mine. Pressing my lips to her neck, I suck hard, feeling my cum brew.

“Fuck,
baby,” she cries, and I pull away. Her skin is flushed and her eyes are closed.
My balls tighten as she clamps her pussy down around me and I watch her fall
from this world. Holding on to my orgasm for as long as possible, I watch her.
Fuck, she is so gorgeous, the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. She
writhes and shakes against me as I shove myself into her as deep as I can.

“I
love you,” she responds and grabs a paper towel, cleaning herself off. I
wrestle my dick back into my pants, holding the door closed. Watching her, I
know that I could come a few more times, but that’ll have to wait until we are
home.

“Ready?”
I ask, holding my hand out to her as she zips her pants.

“Yup,”
she says and grins at me walking out of the restroom. Intertwining my fingers
with hers, I stop at the bar and get us two more beers. We both turn and look
at the huge crowd of our closest friends.

“You
know our engagement dinner with both sides of our family isn’t gonna be this
fun,” she says.

“We’ll
make the best of it and have fun, like we always do, babe. Your mom will be
drunk, so we’ll be right there along with her.”

Taking
a swig of the beer the bartender hands me, I can’t help but get lost in her
beauty.

She
takes a quick drink of her beer as I take her hand and lead her to the dance
floor to dance with our friends and party the night away.

Ten
beers, seven shots, and something else I can’t remember later, it’s time to
leave. Everyone else is gone and Zoë is almost asleep in my arms.

“Let’s
go, you party animal.”

She
looks up at me with her hair in her face and all I can see are her teeth. I
can’t help but laugh – oh, she’s going to be hurting tomorrow. Wrapping my arm
around her, we stumble out into the cool spring night. The subway station is
just a block away and after a fifteen-minute ride, we’ll be home.

“You
good?” I ask Zoë as we make the short walk.

“Uh
huh,” she responds, keeping up with me. The city is still buzzing; I swear New
York never sleeps, and that’s why I love it here. Entering the stairs for the
subway, we begin to walk down and Zoë wobbles.

“Hold
on to me, okay?” I prop her up as we make our way to the bottom.

“Mm
hmm,” she hums as her chin slumps toward her chest.

Waiting
on the platform, there isn’t anyone down here, except for a bum sleeping on a
bench. The train pulls up and we enter the empty car.

Zoë
flops down in a seat, her head still hanging low and I wonder if she’s sleeping
already. Sitting next to her, I wrap an arm around her and she nuzzles to
me.

“You
okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.
Baby?” she asks.

“Uh
huh.”

“Can
we go to Long Beach tomorrow?”

“Sure,”
I respond, knowing she’s not going to want to do anything but sleep all day,
but being a smart man, I play along.

“I
mean it.”

“I
know you do.”

The
subway zooms down the tracks rocking us back and forth a little, and I rest my
head against hers. Zoning out on the orange and yellow seats across from us.
Then, the alcohol sets in and my eyes close. My mind drifting back to fucking
her in the bathroom.

Suddenly,
my daydream is cut short. Zoë shakes violently in my hold.

“Baby,”
I yell holding on to her.

She
doesn’t respond, her eyes are rolled back in her head, and I know I have to do
something. She has had seizures before, but not for a long time and never with
me. I know I need to protect her until I can get help at the next stop.

Laying
her on the floor of the subway, I cradle her head, her arms and legs flailing.
My insides break, burning in pain watching her hurting like this. “Baby,
please,” I plead, crying, holding on to her, but she won’t stop and I don’t
know what else to do. White foam pools out the sides of her mouth, followed by
blood, and I fear she’s bit her tongue.

“Zoë!”
I scream, freaking out, watching her like this, so…helpless.

Finally her body starts to slow and my heart
skips a beat. “Zoë, oh, baby,” I weep, wiping my eyes so I can see her clearly
and move around her. As I hover above her, she is still twitching a tiny bit
and I wait for her to come to, cradling her head in my hands.

“Wake
up,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers just wanting her body to calm.
The announcement for the next stop goes off, so it’s not long until I can get
her off of here. My chest heaves watching her ragged breaths. She’s struggling.
“Baby, please hang in there,” I whisper, looking at her as the train starts to
slow.

Then
her body settles and everything about her calms.

Thank God!

She’s
going to be okay! She has to be. I count her breaths, waiting for her to come
back to me. One…two…three…and then…nothing. I panic looking into her eyes –
they are slightly open and glazed over. She is staring off, not looking at me.
“No, Zoë!” I scream, shaking her by the shoulders. “You can’t leave me!”

The
train stops at the next station, and I scream for help when the doors open,
even though I know it’s too late. Looking down at her body, I knot my fingers
into my hair, horrified. Her chest is still.

Tears
cloud my vision as I lift her in my arms. Holding her lifeless body close to
mine, I sit – crying – reeling in the agony of facing my greatest nightmare.

Everything
around me spins.

Jesus,
this cannot be real.

I
sob into her neck, smelling her, my Zoë, my world, my everything…for one last
time.

From bestselling author, LK
Collins, comes 3 Breaths a standalone novel releasing 2-29-16. 3 Breaths
will make your heart skip a beat while falling for the bad boy that you know
you shouldn’t. LK writes an array of emotionally and sexy gripping Erotic
Romance novels. She’s a lover of the oxford comma and everything in the writing
world. Her stories are compelling and will draw you in from page one, and with
twists and turns, she always keeps her readers enthralled 'til the end. When
LK’s not lost in the minds of her characters, you can find her on the beach
with her family, where her husband and writing partner, “The Prezident,” are
sure to be plotting out her next tale.

Isolated in the luxurious
Wolf Cove Hotel in Alaska, Abbi Mitchell is thousands of miles away from her
family and friends.

In the hands of a predator.
Potentially.

After discovering
condemning information about the mercurial man who controls her day-to-day work
life and, now, her most intimate private life as well, Abbi's not sure she can
continue on with... whateveris going on between her and Henry
Wolf. Especially when he's about to be thrown into a fiery media circus ring,
and she, along with her reputation, will undoubtedly get dragged into it with
him.

But breaking things off
with the Big Bad Wolf now likely means losing her job and her summer of
freedom, and going back to the farm and her controlling mother.

She's not doing that.

Abbi does have something to
hold over Henry's head. If he forces her hand. If she
has the guts to do what amounts to blackmail.

But will the all-powerful
Henry Wolf concede, or will she finally feel his bite?

I stifle the urge to hiss
with panic as I fumble for it, the strap of my purse slipping off my shoulder
in the process. It hits the floor with a soft thud. I dive for it, cursing
under my breath as I root through the pocket with frantic hands, finding it and
flipping the silence button on the side. Hoping the noise will go unnoticed.

I’m still on my knees
with my head bowed when the door creaks open wider and Henry’s polished black
shoes appear in front of me.

“I’ve gotta go. Call me
when you’re in my office and I’ll give you the code to the safe,” Henry
demands, his voice unnaturally calm as compared to a moment ago, though no less
hostile.

I take my time collecting
the few items that spilled from my purse while I decide what to do. What should
I say? Do I play dumb? Do I say I just got here? Do I pretend I don’t know a
thing, and smile and wait expectantly for him to kiss me?

Tell me to strip?

F*ck me on his desk? In
his bed?

Even as appalled as I am
with him right now, I’d be lying if I said the thought of having him touch me
doesn’t spark heat between my thighs. He’s turned me into some sort of sex
deviant. But I can’t just sit here on my knees as if I’m waiting for him to
unzip his fly. I finally dare look up, in time to see his hand stretch out in
front of him, palm out.

It could be considered a gentlemanly offer, and yet from Henry Wolf I hear the
command.

Sliding my fingers over
his calloused palm—he must have earned those splitting wood—I ease to my feet.
I take a deep, calming breath before I let my gaze climb his firm, hard body,
his charcoal designer suit as perfect and out of place in the wilds of Alaska
as on any other day, before meeting his eyes. The cold, steely blue in them
instantly creates knots in my stomach.

“You have a bad, bad
habit of eavesdropping, Abigail,” he whispers.

He knows I hate being called Abigail, but now’s not the time to remind him of
that. I clear my throat to avoid sounding weak and fearful. “I didn’t want to
interrupt.”

“Liar.” His lip twitches with amusement, but it falls off so quickly. “What
exactly did you hear?”

Here’s the moment of
truth. Lie and smile, or confront him with what I know. Which is it?

When life turns to hell, most people talk about running away. Abbi Mitchell actually does it. Determined to escape her humiliating heartbreak and her overbearing mother, Abbi takes a summer job at a resort in Alaska. It's supposed to be four months of snow-capped mountains, peaceful wilderness, and figuring out if she should wait for her lifelong sweetheart to come back, as he has promised he'll do.

Instead, it's Henry Wolf.

Owner of the luxury hotel chain, Henry Wolf is cool and composed, successful with everything he touches, and undeniably beautiful. And for some reason Abbi can't fathom, he wants her—the farm girl from small town, USA with no corporate experience—as his personal assistant.

Abbi scrambles to meet his professional demands while she battles her growing attraction to him. Physical feelings she shouldn't have because he's her boss, because she's way out of her league with him, and because they'll never be reciprocated.

Until they are.

Will Abbi be able to let go of herself—her values, her dreams, and her inhibitions—to give him all that he's demanding of her?

Jennifer Foor is an award winning Contemporary Romance Author.She is married
with She's best known for the Mitchell Family Series, which includes ten
books.two children and spends most of her time behind a keyboard, writing
stories that come from her heart.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Blog Tour Review

Out of Focus

(Under the Influence Spin-off)byL.B. Simmons

Genre: Upper New
Adult
Release Date: February 19, 2016

~ Synopsis ~

“Shhhh,
Cassandra, it’s our little secret.”

Secrets
are stubborn things when they refuse to remain hidden. They tear through your
soul, clawing and lashing until the pain becomes so unbearable, you’re left no
choice but to silently scream your agony. No one hears you, of course. You
smile on the outside and drift through life as though your mind is at peace,
but all the while, you remain your own tortured prisoner. Sealed inside the
darkened, soundproof room of your conscience, deafening cries echo as you plead
for someone to unlock the door and release you from your nightmares. And
eventually, when no one comes, you find ways to cope. To dull the suffering the
only way you know how.

But what
happens when you’ve become so numb, when everything around you has become so
blurred, that you begin to lose focus on the saving grace standing directly in
front of you? When you’ve anesthetized yourself to the point of losing
consciousness, forced to watch as his once solid image fades away, lost to your
reach in the haze as it smothers you?

What do
you do then?

You
fight. You heal. Then you bring him back.

Well, my
name is Cassie Cooper, and it’s time.

No more
secrets.

This is
my story.

*** WARNING - The subject matter of this novel centers
around the psychological effects due to sexual abuse experienced during
childhood. For this reason, as well as sexual situations, language, and adult
themes, suggested reading age is 17+.***

I used to be so much stronger. I
somehow kept the voices at bay, the memories locked away safely, contained
within the confines of my mind. But with each passing day, I feel the glow of
my once-luminous strength fading. Darkness encases me now, bowing the walls of
protection I put into place years ago. My past is an ever-present nightmare,
repeatedly tapping, slowly fracturing the window of my sanity.

I have no doubt that it’s only a matter
of time before the glass finally breaks. Blackness will eventually seep through
its cracks and deliver me from the safety of my façade into a reality that will
destroy me.

My reality.

I’ve done my part. I’ve kept the
secrets thrust upon me with dedicated believability. My portrayal of who I am
has become a blurred, hazy version of the once very distinct Cassie Cooper.

I read an ungodly amount of trashy
romance novels.

I’m the overtly sexual and foul-mouthed
friend who will say anything to get a laugh.

And I have exactly zero fucks to give
to what anyone else thinks about my actions.

But the reality, the actuality, is
this:

I read obsessively to escape my own
world. To live the dreams of others when, for so long, the reoccurrence of my
nightmares has been my reality. I read to fall in love and find a happily ever
after, even if it is purely imagined. With each story I read, I’m able to live
and love vicariously through the characters in my books. It’s the only
plausible way for me to survive.

I threw away my virginity at the age of
thirteen just to prove something. And when I found that proof, that vindication
I was looking for, I sought it every chance I could. Sex is about control for
me. Nothing more. The act will never be about making love, like it is for the
heroines in my books. I will never be granted the beauty of that gift.

I use humor as a form of avoidance. I
draw upon laughter to block the pain. And I smile to mask the agony of the
eight-year-old soul who weeps within me.

And the fucks . . . well, that’s not
entirely accurate either.

I have given two to be exact: One to my
best friend of seventeen years. She knows nothing of my past, and although she
so willingly disclosed the horrors of hers, mine remains hidden for no other
reason than to avoid the pity she would undoubtedly cast my way if I were to
ever tell her. I don’t want her pity. I would sooner die than have her look at
me in any other way than with pride.

The other died with the person to whom
it was given. Anthony “Rat” Marchione. He was my one allowance of naïveté. The
one person I actually wanted to touch me, to hold me, to love me. He was going
to rescue me from my brokenness as though I were a character in one of my
books. Young and senseless, I thought he was to be my eventual happily ever
after, but tragically, he was murdered five years ago.

Black coldness waits in vain to leech
the void where his once beautiful existence filled the pieces of my irrevocably
shattered heart. Where he temporarily healed the hurt of the innocent child and
quieted the voices that tormented her.

He’s gone now. I’ve accepted that. And
in turn, I have relinquished all dreams associated with finding the light at the
end of this miserable tunnel.

I will keep trudging through this life
. . . this sentence handed to me for someone else’s crime, my payment shackled
by secrets and weighted with lies. I will continue to do so with the same
fraudulent smile on my lips and play the part of the strong heroine so
convincingly, that even I believe it.

It’s only a matter of time before my
fictional strength wears out—when I’m no longer hidden safely inside my
protective blur—and I have to face the very real and lucid image of my past.

A new book from L.B. Simmons is like opening a present. It always stirs up emotion and will have me consumed within opening it. Out of Focus is Cassie's story. We are introduced to her in Under the Influence {another amazing read} but here we find out what makes Cassie tick.

This story will pull at your heartstrings and may induce tears running down your face. I was eager to see what made Cassie find it near impossible to trust anyone. What she hid from others for most of her life was a weigh on her shoulders that no one should have to bear. Little did she know that to be free she had to allow herself crash land before she could pick herself up again.

Ahhhh....meet Grady. Who knew teaching a Krav Magra class would set his world on fire. One encounter with Cassie had him coming back for more. He saw her and although it was not obvious to anyone else he knew what Cassie was trying to hide from the world.

Grady and Cassie were so enjoyable. The small steps that they took to spend time together allowed Cassie to shed some of her self hatred and enjoy life. Watching the transformation from self loathing to self love was an emotional one. It was a tough road for Grady and Cassie to find their way.

We of course get to catch up with Dalton and Spencer, two of my favorite characters from Under the Influence. It would be hard not to as Spencer and Cassie share a history. We also get an added treat which honestly took me a minute to catch. ~ sigh

What I enjoy most about L.B. Simmons books is that they are real. She draws her story from life. There are most definitely people who suffer like Cassie had. I will most definitely be awaiting news of her next project. Go grab your copy of Out of Focus and see what everyone is raving about.

~ Rating ~~ About the Author ~

L.B. Simmons is a graduate of Texas A&M University and holds a degree in Biomedical Science. She has been a practicing Chemist for the last 11 years. She lives with her husband and three daughters in Texas and writes every chance she gets.